Invasion Death's Sting: SJC Invasion of BotM held Lao-Mon

[Glossa]

Location: Western Walls, Goshen War Camp - Lao-mon
Objective: 2 - Tip of the Spear
Allies: BotM ( The Mongrel Marlon Sularen Halketh Romund Sro )
Enemies: SJC ( Sergeant Omen Starlin Rand Artemis Lu ) │ NIO ( Noel Strasza Avenger) │ GA ( Damsy Callat The Dark Inquisitor )
Direct Engagement: The Dark Inquisitor Sergeant Omen

Covering her head and closing her eyes had gone a long way towards mitigating the effects of the flash grenade. Unfortunately, such a violent burst of sound and light could not be totally blocked or avoided. Glossa’s ears rang incessantly, which along with the sharp ache in her chest from the Jedi’s powerful exertion of energy, made the Aspirant feel a sensation of mild nausea. Nevertheless, Glossa didn’t dare take even a moment of rest, pain lancing through her entire body as she quickly picked up her rifle and pushed herself up onto a knee, fearing that at any moment the Jedi would be on her, plunging her yellow lightsabers into her back to render her as yet slave soldier slain at the hands of an all-powerful, seemingly divine mage-knight.

Just as she turned halfway around, smoke began to cloud up the entire area in a dense fog. For a short moment, she was blinded. However, bringing her rifle up to her cheek, the scope mounted on its frame cut through the smoke via ultrasonic waves, allowing her to see the Jedi on the ground, stunned by all visual indications.

She almost couldn’t believe it.

Surely, this was some sort of arcane illusion. A Jedi, fallen, made weak by the tools of a mere mortal. It was a sight which she had never expected to lay eyes upon. A part of her was ready to accept her seemingly inevitable fate, a searing lightsaber impaled through her chest, a blaster bolt to the head, or even a sudden snap of her neck wrought by an invisible hand, while she was distracted by a simple illusion cast with only a thought.

Nevertheless, the slave soldier couldn’t hesitate.

With a grunt, Glossa set her aim on the Jedi’s chest, before firing a pair of four-round bursts, unleashing a salvo of eight baradium-core slugs from slightly less than ten meters away in quick, back-to-back succession, which emptied her magazine in the process. If her senses were true, a quick kill or incapacitation seemed feasible, perhaps even likely. If not, the Avatars would judge her soul, either resurrecting her in paradise or consuming her energies to bring about the Second Genesis.

As her weapon clicked empty, Glossa caught sight of the armored Marine in her sights as well, limping towards the Jedi. Pushing herself off of the ground, the Jango Jumper moved a few meters back from her original position, pressing a new magazine into her rifle before a shot suddenly rang out from the smoke, a fresh sting of agony manifesting in her nerves as the shatter round struck her in the leg, eliciting a pained grunt from her throat as numbness came over the stricken limb, forcing her back onto a knee after moving roughly six meters.

Without hesitating, Glossa returned fire through the smoke in a pair of two-round bursts, unleashing four explosive slugs aimed for the Marine’s chest with sharp, distinct cracks which reverberated out amidst the chorus of screams and blaster fire...

Spoiler: Loadout

• White Pulsiva Bodysuit
  • Supplemental Armor Plating
    • Scavenged Duraplast
      • Vambraces / Greaves / Cuisses / Rerebraces
  • Energy Shield
    • DS-102 “Aegis” Personal Energy Shield
  • B-11 “Greitis” Class Combat Boots
    • Whimsy Knife (2)
• Hekler’Kok FR-01
  • 30-Round Magazine
  • Ammunition
    • Hekler’Kok Polymer Cartridge Ammunition-Explosive
    • Hekler’Kok Polymer Cartridge Ammunition-Armor Piercing
  • Sonic Scope
• FAE/M-01 "Scherezade" Energized Vibroblade
• Flash Grenade
• G-20 Glop Grenade (2)

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Objective I: Free slaves | Deal with pesky Imps blowing chit up?
Tags: Lyra Vent Zoraya Ives-Ayres Zachariel Steelblood (engaging)
Location: Slave Quarters
NPCs: Tammuz Hoole | Jaina Grayson

Oh, I see it. I see you.

The voice was inside Zachariel’s mind, so deep and subtle that it seemed almost to be coming from the behemoth’s own consciousness.

Nimdok had ventured in with the intention of ripping and tearing and leaving nothing behind, but seeing as he found so little to begin with (it was quite a true statement that Zachariel was as empty-headed as a hollow gourd, all brawn and no brains), he hesitated. A new, more subversive scheme was crowning, the birth of a plot to truly undermine his opponent.

The barbs embedded in Zachariel’s memories remained sharp as hooks, but their jabbing was no longer aimed at causing pain. Nimdok needled the Gen’dai with consequence; he reminded him of repercussions and pricked him with the thorn of accountability. Pain was replaced by a gnawing discomfort, the nipping of uncertainty and anxiety. A cinch formed around the bottomless bottle of suffering and destruction from which Zachariel drew strength, tightening, closing off the flow…

It had dribbled down to a trickle, but the content had changed. Zachariel pawed at it greedily, seeking sustenance in pain, only for his mind’s mouth to be flooded with the bitter milk of human kindness. He would see, at last, other people. He would feel how they felt, not as a vulgar spectator feeding on their agonies, but what it felt like to be them. To empathize. To care.

Thus did Nimdok plant the seed of conscience in Zachariel, then observe as it began to grow, the roots spreading, burrowing deep into the Mawite’s mind...

 

[Noel Strasza]

F I L T H Y
R E V E N A N T
IMPERIAL SPECTRE

​

The Spectre stared in the direction of the howls, fists clenching by her sides. Her gaze flicked to the cloaked man as he joined her, scanner tracing the outline of his form and filling it in with infrared data passively. She could feel him considering it almost, finding a singular point of tension the two of them could actually agree on for a change. And in a way, it was a silent victory for her, as he agreed that 'ending' was the right course. Not so moral when it was personal, was it?​

"No." a plain reply, concealing its reluctance. "The Camp must fall and it won't happen without sabotaging their communications and aiding the Army's advance."

The tone of his voice masked his true thought, but it was the pause before that bared reluctance to her scrutiny. He was right, and she knew that, but how could they pass up this chance at the traitor who had killed their leader in front of them, desecrated hard-earned ground, and killed thousands of their comrades on the hellscape he turned Carlac into? 'It's f*ckin' bullshit,' the thought held her in place, and she almost ditched Varian, going back the way she had come--

--until the explosions of his charges broke her building hatred.

Revenant's head snapped around and she crouched beside the crumbling hole he created, counting to herself. If she joined him too soon, the electrical charge could hinder her systems briefly, an annoyance she certainly did not feel like combating at this time. Unnaturally silent, she impacted the floor behind him, mechanized joints and compressors soaking the heavyweight of her body and converting the kinetic impact into useable energy to stow. A glance around revealed no stragglers to dispatch her way, though she doubted it would remain that way for long, given the explosive entrance.

Reluctant to dedicate herself to splicing when she yearned to rampage through the structure, the cyborg growled a sigh of frustration. "The second this sh*t is done, you verify it, and I'm moving to secondary op." Noel squared herself in front of the communications terminal, shoving the slumped, unconscious body of its former attendant to the floor. The hand housing her slicing array snapped back, sliding out of socket along rail implanted across her forearm, revealing the glinting tools of the trade. Without thinking, as her processors did it all for her, the Spectre socketed the right plug extension into the access port, bypassing the necessary chip insertion of an access card she didn't feel like plucking off the slumbering foe.

"Thirty seconds to find their frequencies and fifteen to reroute them."
​

ALLIES | NIO | SJC | Avenger
HOSTILES | BotM | IF IT'S RED, IT'S DEAD | OPEN FOR OPPOSITION

 

[Inosuke Ashina]

OBJECTIVE I
ALLIES: NJO, SJC
Enyo Typhos

---

---

​

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

The grenade skipped across the floor and into Inosuke's peripheral. Not what he'd bet on, though not exactly a sidewinder, either. Workable, no abiding to previous absolutes. A flick of his hand seized and tossed the grenade back down the corridor. Barbaric? Yes. Practical? More so.

Ashina swung out from around the corner, saber in hand. He'd expected an explosion, but witnessed only a pop followed by forceful hissing. A smog grew over the brief image of his assailant, obscuring them in an alien aerosol. Every step taken was father and farther off course. Adaptations had to be made on first impulse. Water goes where it will.

One quick, loud inhale stored a breath as he forced himself forward under the cover of haze. Where his eyes failed him, the Force didn't. Feeling, listening, Ashina threw a neckbound stroke toward the unseen presence within virulent fog.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Objective II: Tip of the Spear
Tags: Halketh
Location: Like right outside the war camp, idk tbh
Gear: Armor | Lightsaber | Shoto | Tal’Kar Bracelet

Starlin felt his limbs freeze in place, his joints locking up. For the first time since engaging with Caelitus, the Padawan could not wriggle his way out of the Sith’s grasp. This Darth was a master, after all.

A flash of fear ran through Starlin as he braced himself for the worst… but nothing happened. Well, nothing except that he felt the bracelet around his wrist grow hot. It took him a moment to understand why.

Wait… is he trying to do a psychic attack?... Cool! Nobody’s ever tried that before!... Well, that one witch on Kashyyyk did… and I guess the witch way back on Zeffo did it too… man, that was like, my second day of training!...

Unable to work his jaw or move his lips, Starlin could not utter his nostalgic thoughts aloud. (Fortunately…) His master’s training had not prepared him to deal with an assault upon his mind, but Starlin had forged the bracelet he now wore in order to protect himself from such trickery.

Unfortunately, fate intervened.

One of the Mawite Wardogs, a wicked hybrid of flesh and cybernetics, managed to slip past the The Man in White ‘s defense. The mecha-hound came bounding toward the paralyzed Starlin and lunged at him. Starlin felt the timer on his ill-chosen spell end just in the nick of time. The dog’s jaws closed around his right wrist, but Starlin shoved him away before those jagged teeth could break the skin.

But the Wardog’s teeth had caught on the bracelet, and when it was yanked free, the tal’kar chain went with it, caught on one of the mongrel’s fangs.

Starlin fell to the ground screaming in pain as his mind was swiftly and violently penetrated.

Sorry, kid, but this is going to hurt if it works.

"I think you are being played, and it is not by me, Starlin.”

"I am sorry they manipulated you like that."

"Please forgive me Starlin. I didn't want to and never meant to hurt you."

Syd… I’m sorry.

Starlin was a gold mine of embarrassing and traumatic memories, rich with regret and shame. After all he is, and always was, a fool...

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Slave of the Maw​

Objective: Try to escape from captivity
Location: Goshen Keep Dungeons, Lao-mon
Equipment: 1x standard assault rifle | 2x blaster rifle | 2x vibroblade | 3x dogtag || OPBC-01m
Writing with: Zachariel Steelblood 's hunters
Allies: Konrad Harrsk | Auria Blackmoore | Jacen Nimdok
Enemies: Tu'teggacha

[ Dream of home ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ ​

I finally managed to get into a very uncomfortable position; I couldn’t move on because they would have heard it. Because that's when they arrived in the corridor where I was. That is, what I was above. I could still hear their voices as they mocked, howled, trying to lure me out. My heart pounded fiercely in my chest; I could hear the blood rumbling in my ear, I would have needed more air due to the impending panic, but it couldn’t be. I couldn’t gasp because they would have heard it for sure.

Waiting for death, I even forgot to breathe for a moment when one sniffed the air just below me. I could see exactly where they were through the bars. Cold sweat ran down my face and back, my skin was still damp with sweat, warmth, and I smelled of my own fear as well. I could only hope it didn’t smell very good and she wouldn't feel it. And up here it was even warmer, I was starting to feel bad from the lack of fresh air.

The majority seemed to be moving on; maybe I’ll be lucky, but the woman doesn’t, she still stays. And my side and lungs started to have more and more pain due to my ribs. The one I hurt again in the fall was getting more and more pressed into my lungs. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, I could feel blood in my throat and mouth, I had to cough. I swallowed the blood, which made my nausea worse.

I had to move, I tried very, very carefully, yet the metal started to cry loudly below me, indicating that someone was moving in the ventilation duct. What was even worse was that after that, I was really no longer able to hold back the cough; I soaked the ventilation duct with a bloody spray, from which it also reached the part below, the corridor through the tiny metal holes. I tried to stop coughing but failed…

Feth!

 

[Tegan Starfall]

Post: 3
Objective: Blackest Hour
Equipment: Mind Crown | Black MidNight Duster with Hood | Echani shield suit | Grav Boots | Eltro Life Gloves | x4 red lightsabers | Defender | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | x2 FWG-5 Flechette Smart Pistol | Boomer | X4 Daggers | Pack of Death sticks | Various Explosives on person and in backpack | Holopad
Allies: The Mongrel | Halketh | Darth Tennacus | Bendak Crail | Romund Sro | Marlon Sularen | Glossa | Jaedec Ren | Zachariel Steelblood | Ves Fett
Enemies: Starlin Rand | Amelia Venthyra | Sergeant Omen | Noel Strasza | Avenger | @hurion Heavenshield | Zoraya Ives-Ayres | Damsy Callat | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Lyra Vent | Artemis Lu
Special Tags: Aemilio Valaar @

---

Her one eye glared at him as he demanded she get up, who was he to make demands of a self-proclaimed God. A grimace crossed the skull painted face as that one eye just burned a hole right through with her glare. She did not want to get up as she finished drawing two more symbols in the ground. “Ughhhhh.” She finally started to push herself up from the ground it seemed slow but in truth as she rose from the ground, she enacted force speed. Her rise seemed slow and lumbering like she was broke, though she was in pain, pain was a tool to a darksider.


She stood up fully and looked to him her shoulders slumped still only her left eye was, but the other one flicker lulled slowly half open. Tegan looked like a Zombie in that moment with her skull painted face and one of her burning orange eyes flaring while the other just sort of lulled there lazily. She stepped on one of the symbols she had drawn near the web symbols. As she did it charged with energy and a purple energy surged across her weapon.


She activated the reanimate the dead so that any soldier her web grew to touch or already touched if they died, they would rise again for a second go but on the side of the Maw. It would bolster the Maw forces in the air and the army would exponentially grow as the rising dead killed more, more would join there ranks. Friends would be forced to kill their risen comrades the torture would be endless. Yet that meant little in the moment to Tegan as she was focused on the soldier bot in front of her.


“How Dare you make Demands of The God of Destruction!”


Her tone started out calm and soft spoken unintimidating but quickly rose to and unearthly maddening scream. Her other foot moved and stepped on the second symbol a black energy began to dance form all around Tegan. Lazily she stretched her right hand out to her side where the dark energy began to Coalesce into a spear shaped weapon made of pure magickal energy. The energy was just as capable as any common lightsaber in the fact it could block or absorb energy, but it didn’t cut as hot as saber. However, it had one added benefit if it struck a material like metal, it would cause it to rust and age about thirty years with every hit.


Tegan usually didn’t choose Melee combat but today she decided to make an exception. Her left partial crippled hand reached up and with a wave of her wrist she motioned him to come at her if he dared. She time with her force speed activated she was ready for his charge.

 

[Enyo Typhos]

Objective 1
Allies: Maw.
Gear: Armour, lightsabre, Shotgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Inosuke Ashina

Clack, clack, clack.

Boom.

The grenade detonated in the corridor, releasing a stream of Hurlothombric Compound. Enyo walked through the haze, untroubled by it. Due to her cybernetics, she could see through gas and low light. Reaching out through the Force, she pushed the gas back towards the Jedi's hideout.
The thing about the gas was that it could also be absorbed through the pores, instead of just being inhaled. In short, one could still be at risk even if one avoided breathing it in. However, the Jedi struck first. Suddenly appearing before her, he swung his lightsabre towards her.

Enyo's talent for precognition was minor, all things considered. She had chosen power over insight, much like her template. But she had a droid's mechanical precision. And so she dodged deftly, side-stepping. The blade passed by her throat, though it caused a graze, and cut into her shoulder.

Smoke coiled from her armour. The blade slid down the arm before bouncing off, slicing off synthetic flesh as it went. The smell of barbecued flesh - and metal - wafted into the air. The arm felt less mobile. A shoulder joint had suffered. No sound escaped her throat. Instead, even as the blade hit home, she fired her hard-sound gun. Once, twice.

Getting bludgeoned by condensed sound waves was...unpleasant. And you could not block them with a lightsabre. As the shots escaped her gun, her senses prickled when she noticed something curious about him. Specifically, one of his eyes.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Lao-mon, Monastery of Slaughter and surrounding quadrant
Tags: Gir Quee | Tren Chaar | ADM. Reshmar | Liram Angellus | Commander Ewan "Raider" Isaacs

The big guns of the Emerald Undertow opened up on the Monastery and its surroundings, their chaos shells creating a strange, expanding cloud of gas, radiation, and ion disruption around the station. Mawite fighters caught by the seismic charges were torn apart, while others - flying blind through the cloud, their sensors scrambled - crashed into each other, or the debris. Squadrons did their best to regroup and emerge from the cloud the artillery had unleashed, streaking away from the Monastery to join the fighters that had already been preparing to advance. They wouldn't be able to provide close support to the station.

Of course, the enemy weapons had also just given the Monastery a powerful defense against starfighters. Any Alliance bombers deployed against the station would also have to fly through the cloud of gas, radiation, and sparking ion charges, which would be just as suicidal for them as for the Maw. Perhaps the Alliance did not ever intend to deploy their starfighters against the Monastery, only pound it from long range... but the pervasive gas cloud cloaked the entire station from the sight of the Alliance capital ships firing on it, too, and the countless ion charges interfered with sensor readings aimed at it. It would be hard to target now.

Screened by the gas, the Monastery began to slowly move, changing its position while in concealment so that it could throw off the incoming bombardment. Truly a double-edged sword, those chaos munitions.

As the Mawite fighters struggled out of the gas cloud and back into some semblance of cohesion, the hyperspace contacts detected moments earlier began to revert to realspace. It was not a huge force, though it was a significant one, and so they had clearly chosen their moment carefully, waiting in deep space just outside the system until the SJC fleet had launched many of its support craft toward Lao-mon's surface. Now the enemy was spread out; the Maw had divided, and now it intended to conquer. And the enemy had kindly presented their flanks to them, the widest possible target facing the narrow noses of the Mawite craft.

They'd better hope their broadside worked, because they'd made themselves easy to hit.

From the Monastery, forty of the original fifty garrison squadrons streaked forward. Their first priority was to shoot down the remaining enemy fighter screen. Swarming Darkshears screened the Mawite advance, for the Brotherhood cared nothing if every last one of the cheap, flesh-drone-piloted fighters was destroyed. The craft simply got in the way of the enemy in huge numbers, firing their light laser cannons more to force the enemy back than to rack up a lot of fighter kills. Behind them came deadlier Thornwaves, actively hunting the enemy, and Doomsayers, using their ion cannons to soften up the shields of fighters and sloops.

Then came the elite Divine Eagles and their Knyght pilots, Telemachus of Daedalon at their head. The best of the best among the Maw, they were out for blood, and their fighters' powerful weapons would get it for them. With beam cannons and laser cannons alike they raked enemy fighters, especially those who had lost shields to the Doomsayers. Then they deployed their deadly proton bombs, aiming the explosives at the sloops - whose shields had hopefully also been weakened by Doomsayer ion cannons. They would start with the smallest enemy ships and work their way up once they'd established fighter superiority.

With the enemy force divided, they had the numbers to do it.

Meanwhile, the Mawite battle group that had just jumped into the system launched its own squadrons; each Praetorian-class Star Destroyer could carry ten, adding a further twenty squadrons of Thornwaves and Doomsayers to the forty squadrons already attacking from the Monastery. Then the craft pushed forward, firing all weapons directly at the exposed flanks of the ships ADM. Reshmar had just prepared for broadside. Their largest guns, fearsome orbital autocannons equally adept at destroying surface installations and blowing apart capital ships, were mounted on the bottoms of the Crucifix-class and Praetorian-class ships...

... which meant that they had clear lines of fire even while advancing prow-first.

A withering barrage of heavy weapons fire went out from the Star Destroyers, intending to slam into the enemy escort section and damage or eliminate them early in the struggle. They were aided in this by heavy ion fire from the Samael-class Frigates, each of which carried a whopping twenty ion cannons to add to those mounted on the Star Destroyers. Their focused fire should help rapidly drain the shields of the escort section vessels, leaving them vulnerable to the power of the Mawite big guns. If the little fleet could make a splash early on, maybe they could figure out what to do against the hulking Emerald Undertow.

The hammer-headed Crucifix-class destroyers had another card to play as well. Their reinforced prows were designed for ramming... and again, the enemy was presenting their flanks. It was the perfect time to break them in half. Firing their sublight engines at full, the Crucifixes moved forward, rapidly gaining speed, firing as they went. Their intent was to slam into one of the weakened escort vessels each, hopefully snapping them in half with the impact and taking them out of the battle in one swift stroke. It was a typically brutal Mawite tactic, and even if it failed, they would at least close in to a good range to launch boarding pods.

As the fighter battle truly began in earnest, no more retreating or tactical feints, the Knyght Telemachus of Daedalon reached out to the Force. He could sense the presence of an enemy fighter commander, someone whose death would demoralize his squadron and perhaps throw them into disarray. Time for a little dogfight, the savage Knyght thought, grinning nastily. He directed his Divine Eagle toward Revenant Squadron, intending to lock onto Tren Chaar and open up on him with his laser and beam cannons. With the Force and his cybernetics, he was confident - to the point of arrogance - that he would be able to kill the enemy ace.

Time would tell whether he was right. He streaked in to attack from above...

Spoiler: Fleet Composition / Actions

Aeon's End, a Praetorian-class Destroyer	Firing on Escort Section
Bonfire of Vanity, a Praetorian-class Destroyer	Firing on Escort Section
Wrathborn, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Firing on Escort Section, Accelerating to Ram
Oblivion Herald, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Firing on Escort Section, Accelerating to Ram
Misery Bringer, a Samael-class Frigate	Firing Ion Cannons at Escort Section
Orphan Maker, a Samael-class Frigate	Firing Ion Cannons at Escort Section
Hope Taker, a Samael-class Frigate	Firing Ion Cannons at Escort Section
Harvester, a Samael-class Frigate	Firing Ion Cannons at Escort Section
Avaricious, a Samael-class Frigate	Firing Ion Cannons at Escort Section
Mad Dog, a Samael-class Frigate	Firing Ion Cannons at Escort Section

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 4
Objective: Fighting Words
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove (Stored in her coat pocket)
Allies: Halketh | The Mongrel | Darth Tennacus | Bendak Crail | Romund Sro | Marlon Sularen | Glossa
Enemies: Michael Barran | Starlin Rand | Amelia Venthyra | Sergeant Omen | @[Liram Angellus | Noel Strasza | Thurion Heavenshield | Zoraya Ives-Ayres | Damsy Callat | Mrurh'en'lase | Hel | Lyra Vent | Artemis Lu
Special Tags: Michael Barran | Eldervine

Forces:
150- Raider walkers
25 - Spider Cruisers
30 - Firefang wardogs
1 coy. - Kitiakira Warband
1 coy. - Scav Kings
1 coy. - War Shamans
12 - Sorcerers of Rhand
24 - Flesh Stalkers
12 - Drengir

---

The man before through out there enlightening conversation thus far had a menacing aura about but he seemed to hold his composure well. He didn’t show a crack in his demeanor coming off pleasant though arrogant only showing slight menacing in his one upmanship to Khaos’s Plans. Yet there was something there just below the surface and the moment he reached out and force choked the Scav soldier who was a distance away from them though very much in ear shot Khaos saw it. That menace had broken the surface for just a moment, before returning to his more casual yet authoritative demeanor. He even apologized for his action, though Khaos herself cared little what he did to the soldier.


Though if he had killed the man, she would have had to return the favor by killing one of his men. She wouldn’t want to have given him the show of power in that case. Yet the subject quickly change he made a comment about the day and how it would only grow more tense and that she had no doubts in, just nodding her head in agreement. He then asked her Melarria's Root seeming rhetorical she said nothing at first but then he carried on giving his reasoning behind it and even going into his beliefs a bit.


As he did Khaos left hand closed into a fist, the magick between her fingers and palm began to spark and she tried to keep it as concealed as possible as the man talked on. Here hand reached out displacing it’s self into the spirit realms as Khaos thought of Melarria Root. To anyone looking on her arm and hand were still physically at her side paralyzed there almost has her hand astrally plunge itself into the depths of the spirit realm. Then those words left his lips “though I think you of a race more advanced than my own” which caused her to laugh a little.


“That is the first time anyone has called a Dathomiri Mutt advanced.” She remarked sarcastically, that was her race granted she didn’t really grow up much of her life in the culture learning about it far latter in her life. “That and I grew up on the backwater chtihole of Zonju V ain’t nothing advanced about that place.” Though her mother proclaimed herself a God that was the real truth of there being Dathomiri force mutants, a mutt species from nowhere. Khaos was raised on a dose of the Fanged God and the Winged Goddess along with the teaching from the book of Shadows the prophet Allya’s words. Taught that the book of Laws was an abomination twisted perversion of Prophets words. Well, that was until her mother went into Maddness and started declaring herself a god and her children demigods.


Khaos’s hand that had plunged into he spirit realm emerged and her physical arm and hand began to move. “To answer your question, Yes I know the root well.” She then physically reached out with her hand and opened her fist and in the palm of her hand was the root itself. He had displayed his power by force choking the Scav that was now hacking and coughing as he and his squad walked wandered deeper into the maw camp to avoid getting choked again. This was Khaos’s show she had literally pulled the root from spirit realm into this one conjuring something from seemingly nothing.


Not only that, she had also pulled the sessile seed out as well and it was now growing under their feet and spreading beneath the ground where neither Michael not his forces could see it. She didn’t have her Drengir to give the signal and help break the lines, so she was going to have improvise. The sessile began snake and root out under the ground starting from her feet and moving towards the lines. She couldn’t deny the fact he had her Drengir at bay as they were distant in her head like muffled, like they were worlds away, yet she could feel them closer than that.

 

[Sakadi Marathi Sinvala]

Location: Dungeons of the Central Keep
Objective 1: The Goshen War Camp.
Opposing: The Mongrel

With one hand held against her left ear, the Jedi stumbled into the darkness. Or rather, she would've had she not been forced to make haste. She didn't properly hear it, but the blistering heat coming from behind her and the flames that danced on the edges of her cloak told her enough.

She rushed into the room, only half-aware of the grotesque torture devices that decorated it. She was more occupied with not tripping over her own feet and perhaps most importantly, getting her burning cloak off.

Sakadi managed to free one of her arms from it's sleeve as she reached the bloodied slab of stone. She could almost hear the screams of the tortured herself, unable to comprehend what gruesome torture methods had been applied in this room. On this slab.

The slab that instead of dooming her like so many others, provided her with a safe haven.

Without slowing down, the Jedi Master made an inelegant shoulder roll over the slab, the rusted manacles pressing painfully in her back as she moved over them. In that same motion, she managed to free her other arm from the burning cloak. It remained behind on the slab, the fire casting ominous shadows over the torture devices that stood lined up against the walls.

Blood trickled down her ear and cheek, droplets splattering against the dirty stone tile her face was less than inch away from. Her hearing was no longer reliable. But her sight had returned quickly, and the Force would never abandon her. She relied heavily on the latter to tell what was happening.

To tell that the Mongrel stood in the door-opening, blocking her only exit.​

It would only be a matter of time before he found her hiding behind the slab. Sakadi closed her eyes and drew deep into her reserves. The presence of the Living Force was scarce here. The Dark side unrelenting and smothering. But that was nothing new. She had been in similar situations many times before. Deprived of her tools and solely relying on her beckoning call to the Force.

A memory resurfaced. A voice of times past, one that always spoke to her whenever she required the Force to accomplish a task.

"The Force is for knowledge and defence only, Sakadi." Her master's stern but just features appeared before her mind's eye. "Always remember why you are fighting."

Sakadi snapped back to reality when a slug soared over her head, leaving a trials of white smoke. I'm so sorry. She thought as she fell into the warm embrace of the Force. But I have to go through you.

The Force responded to her swift gesture, hurling her cloak in the Mongrel's direction. The flickering flames that clung to her cloak would hopefully create an opening. Although she wasn't willing to sit and wait until she found out.

The Jedi Master, invigorated by the energy of the Living Force, burst into action. She pushed herself up, dashing past the slab that had served as her hiding place. The second she left her cover, she began her counterattack. Sakadi powered up her blade and threw it toward the Mongrel in a broad swing. The whirling weapon came lightning fast, at a distance far too short for anyone's liking. She called it back to her outstretched hand the moment it reached the doorway. She wouldn't underestimate her opponent anymore. If she didn't summon her blade back immediately and he managed to evade it, he could've deprived her of her weapon far too easily.

No, she couldn't let that happen. Sakadi took the offensive now, but she would do so cautiously.​

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
KILL Dagon Kaze , Jem Fossk
Goshen War Camp | Rooftops of Keep



PEACE IS A LIE​

A quick sweep and slight of movement readied him for the decisive blow, the sudden strike meant to end it all. His opponent, the Jedi Padawan crashed against the rooftop with her back against the cobbled building. She rose her saber and met his gaze with fire and passion, he saw defiance and drive. She’d make an excellent apprentice, too bad she was to die here.

His saber crashed against the translucent barrier, the invisible wall that rebuked him against encroaching further. He’d spoke too soon, his eyes narrowly snapped to Dagon Kaze in a fit of rage. The Jedi screamed warning to his compatriot and she rebuked him as fiercely as Letifer’s own attack was halted. With a throw of his hands, the Sith Assassin called upon the explosive energy of the empyrean.

The roof shingles of the cobbled together structure scattered and boomed in a wave of scattered parts. The shockwave of debris reigned in, aimed to keep the Jedi Knight separated from Letifer and Jem Fossk . He turned his attention immediately to Jem as she rose to her feet in a swift flipped movement.

Her arm lashed out, aiming to get the sith across his neck. His backfoot twirled, rocketing his body to the side as it narrowly missed his neck. She took a step forward and followed it up, her saber flowing in an easy arch to try and disarm him with a strike to the wrist. The Sith Assassin felt the jolt of pain rock to his arm, he let the blade fall and immediately used it for his opening with a now stunned limb.

Drawing a shikkar with his freehand while she was distracted with her momentary victory. In a fierce burst of speed he aimed to strike true, cutting for her heels.

 

[Amelia Venthyra]

Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp
Gear: 1 Lightsaber (Regular - Purple), 1 Shoto (Purple), and 1 Jedi Robes
Tags: The Mongrel

Chaos would be the better description as most battlefields were. Explosions of various calibers echoed from one side to another. Even from above as thunderous sounds could be heard from where Amelia was at. At first, it appeared like they might actually pull this attack off successfully. However, with the army of the dead on the outside that only seems to increase in numbers as more are slain, things were quickly starting to look grim.

It appeared that she successfully pulled small packs of hounds towards her as she ran along the wall to the south. However, it appeared as she also drew the attention of the other riders on those wasp mounts. Or rather wasp, Amelia doesn't know what happened to the other one or they just decided to go off in pairs for this occasion. Whatever the case was, the rider was armed with a bigger and nasty blaster compared to the small handheld blaster that was in Amelia's left hand.

Instead of just opening fire out of whim at the duo. Amelia turned around as she switched to stun as several streaks of electricity sailed towards the wasp and riders. Primarily against the Gore Wasp as she figured stunning it would be faster to deal with than trying to gun it down. If successful, she strengthens her resolve with the Force as her ally, Amelia igniting her lightsaber and in a flurry of blurring movements Amelia does her best to not just block against the blaster fire, but to also redirect it at the riders’ direction as well with inhuman speed. Notably faster than she was when she fought Hetzen. Albeit it does come at a cost as she later finds out how spent she was getting.

The hounds found their way over to Amelia, but much to their surprise Amelia swiftly killed half a dozen in a mixture of slash, twirls, flips, piercing, and with a graceful flourish she even decapitated one of them. Heat intensified when a trio breathed a fan of flames at Amelia’s vicinity, but that triggered part of Amelia’s plan as she called further into her well of energy that was the Force. Her body was feeling heavy from the exertion of herself, but Amelia pressed on as it looked like the combined flames were swept to curve around Amelia. Only to be redirected with increased intensity and bigger in size to the rest of the hounds. Hoping they’ll be too burnt to press on their attack as taking out even some of these hounds would help the rebellion to some degree.

By the time Androk would leap towards Amelia, she musters her strength to maintain her resolve as the Force bolsters and guides her blade. First she’ll take a small leap back, away from Androk’s landing position to put some distance between herself and him. She couldn’t fool around, and time was against her in this instance. Amelia drops the blaster and pulls out her shoto which ignites a purple short blade as she assumes the stance of Djem So, or basically Form V as the shoto was held in a reverse grip with her lightsaber poised with the tip directed at Androk’s figure. Her mastery over Form V makes the shift from both variants to be fluid and graceful as there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation or reluctance. Part of it was due to the guidance of the force, but her experience with the form is a major factor as well.

”So eager… I guess both of you are also doing this with the Three Avatars on your side?” Amelia questioned them, but there was a hint of mocking in the mix. If there was anything she learned was internal conflict can make their effectiveness be less so. It’s been the downfall of many powerful force users in the past, but again she’s using the words and tone in an attempt to dissuade them or to make them doubt their actions. Or they’re both just confident that they can take her on despite her conditions. Conditions that she won’t visually acknowledge despite the fact of her scorched mark on her left forearm.

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

ALLIES: Konrad Harrsk | Ishida Ashina | Keilara Kala'myr | NIO | SJC | GA
ENEMIES: BOTM | NEW SITH ORDER
ENGAGING: Tu'teggacha
GEAR: Not a dress

O~~>TORCH<~~O​

Demons.

They come out of the darkest recesses. Creep out of the past and consume the present. Those demons that reside in all sentients.

They utterly crippled her companion. The loss and disappointment that wracked through Konrad spilled over onto the present plane in devastating waves. Drove him to his knees.

Auria had no idea what memories the Taskmaster had dredged up, but that single, emotion-filled word that escaped Konrad's lips clenched the rogue witch's heart.

She turned her flaming amber gaze on the Ebruchi, flames crackling dangerously in her hands.
"Back off, Squidward! Pick on someone your own size!" she sneered.
She had just lifted her hands to unleash hell, when the Taskmaster struck.

Why the feth did she have to call him out?

The storm waged fiercely. Whipping her dark hair into spirals, adorning them in crystalline accessories. The cold cutting through marrow and bone. And through it all, the fierce battle raged. Death and destruction.

All of it fell away.

The ball of ice had just been hurled in the Starfall's direction, when everything changed. When the glimmer of purpose had been snuffed out.

“Goodbye, pesky little fly,” Tegan Starfall cackled

She watched as Konrad disappeared over the balustrade, falling to his death. A life so summarily snuffed out and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

She had failed.

Failed in protecting the Galaxy. Failed in restoring balance. The one that had the means to help her achieve it, dead. She had nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to. The sheer despair and loss drove her to her knees.

Drove her to her knees.

Flameless hands were gripping her temples, eyes shut tight. Her mind was screaming in despair. The cleansing fire dissipating from her being. Only smoke remained.

And then her mind slipped into the Nether to escape the onslaught of its own accord. The plane of the arcane shrouding it in a cocoon of the ethereal.

Amber eyes flashed open.

As the voulge struck for her neck, Auria raised a hand, stopping it an inch from her jugular with the Force. From the other hand, electric currents sprang straight into the face of the coward that had struck the blow.
The hand that had halted the voulge, then harnessed the Force even more and released another pulse to hopefully put distance between her and the Palatini.

Rising to her feet, she turned her attention to the once more fleeing Ebruchi.
"Where you going in such a hurry, Wirebrain? Are you scared?!" she called as she started to march after him, fire igniting within her once more to cleanse away the remnants of emotion that had briefly crippled her.
Coming to a stop slightly in front of Konrad, she was almost glowing with an ichor light.

"You should be!"

Reality shifted slightly as she channeled the arcane.

In the way of the fleeing Taskmaster stood the illusion of herself, vengeful and with what would appear to be fire in her hands.
"I didn't say you could go." Auria projected through the illusion, hoping it would balk the fleeing Ebruchi before the Force User would realise what it was.

In reality, Auria still stood in place, close to her comrade that was still battling his demons. While projecting illusions, there was little she could do to bring him out of it, other than to lightly rest a hand on his shoulder.
"Snap out of it, Starshine." she whispered.

She was by no means an elder witch yet. The illusion was tapping her, straining the power she had to the limits. All she needed was a little time to draw the Annoying Means to an End back to the light.

Before enemy reinforcements arrived.

 

[Dagon Kaze]

NEW JEDI ORDER
CAPTURE Lord Letifer | LEARN OF THE SITH'S PLANS
Central Keep Rooftops

there is no emotion, there is peace​

No?!

In some twisted irony, the reply reminded him of his own rebellious flame evaporating his master Asmundr Varobalder 's last drops of tempered wisdom. A lot of it, back then, had been guts - proving himself; and to extent luck. Looking back, there was more to it than that. A shameless secret - he felt most alive on the brink of death. Addiction, or something worse, it didn't matter; it shouldn't plague others.

The padawan was out of the shield and Dagon was quick on the move. A barrier flared over his body against the tempest of stone and mortar sent forth by Letifer, slowing the Knight and giving the Sith the opportunity to slash at the girl's heels. A cry echoed across the roof and she fell down on her knees at the mercy of the Sith.

It's a prayer's fall from here. At best - you break a dozen and more bones, at worst— the earlier shower, the dust - it's a slippery slope. Gypsum, sand. Mortar's barely holding anything in place as it is. Gonna need wits and feet and she came lacking the first, now losing the second.

The Force lifts the weight from his knees and he leaps over the padawan and fires a hard front snap kick to the masked chin of the Sith.

ALLIES | GA | SJC | NIO | Jem Fossk
ENEMIES | MAW | Lord Letifer

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Tartarus-Class Battlecruiser, Throne Room


P O W E R​

Cold, claspy hands pushed down against the rests of the Obsidian Throne. The Dark Lord rose to his feet as one by one his opponents came to him, one by one gathering and banding together in defiance, one by one running straight to their doom.

Sulfuric eyes glistened in the darkened shadows of the throne room, golden rays of hatred personified gleaming outward in divine radiance as he smiled with vile grimace. Like a snake, he displayed warmth where there was none, feigning emotions that no longer held sway over his actions. He'd given up so much to become what he was, to do what needed to be done. He'd promised long ago to change the galaxy, to save it from itself. Every promise made had been fulfilled, every solution taking a piece of him away leaving only this and a new understanding of what was needed for the galaxy.

Destruction. Rebirth.

As had come to him. He had been remade, reborn, and in the midst of it all worshipped as a demi-god, a prophetic savior to the children of Bogan, to the Sith Order of which he had purged and made anew. He was Dark Lord, Voice, and Sith'ari. He was Solipsis, he was Sith, and nothing would stand in his way.

He approached the trio, each had made their entrance and each had said their own respective greetings more or less to him. Their intentions were clear, if there was any doubt of why they had come. The Sith Sovereign Protectors inched their way in, warily watching like hawks as their master approached his quarry, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the marble flooring. "You have yet to see how wrong you are, Fel. I will enjoy breaking you like your ancestor before you so easily fell to the Darkness. It is in your blood.You cannot escape it."

The Elder's hand outreached as a yorik coral hilt followed into his grasp from his hip, his high collared cloak flowed open from the forced movement of the Dark Lord's weapon. "Csilla was only the beginning. A prelude to what I will do to this galaxy, to your people." He stopped a few meters away from the two Jedi and the Imperial Knight, his eyes narrowed falling to Bernard with a foul grin of amusement spreading from ear to ear as if he was moments away from laughter. "First Ryv, now you? My dear boy, my dear dear boy."

A slight chuckle escaped him, his weapon ignited in a crimson beam of crackling plasma. "I am without limit. My chains are broken, what can you possibly hope to achieve here? The only scene left in this play is death, as the curtail falls only then will you see the tragedy of this divine comedy. The galaxy is mine, it will burn as I see fit.”

He crouched down low, readying himself with the Force augmenting his body and a burst of speed to send him flying forth as he pressed off the back end of his boot. An inhuman utteral growl roared from his vocal cords into the bastion of evil. With a savage force of movement, he sprung himself outward into the trajectory of Kiara Ayres who had separated herself from the others. He lunged and aimed to strike true, to bury the blade of his saber into her chest if she did not move or conjure up a suitable defense.

His left hand immediate extended out as he recoiled back from the assault, letting Juyo move his body in an aggressive rhythm and flow. His free hand crackled with energy, red sparks leaping to life near instantaneously rippling at the very air with unfathomable hatred unleashed from the bowels of the Dark Lord’s black heart. The lightning closed the distance, reaching out for Bernard oozing with dark power.

His eyes snapped to, emitted with rage as it fell over the imposing form of Rurik Fel . The Dark Lord roared forth and with the Force as his weapon launched his drawn weapon back and sent it spiraling over in a boomerang throw aiming to bisect the rebellious Imperial once and for all.

“You are all MINE.”

Rurik Fel | Kiara Ayres | Bernard​

 

[Zoraya Ives-Ayres]

AD ASTRA
COMPNOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Objective: Absolutely save the slaves
Allies: NIO | SJC | GA | In proximity Lyra Vent | Thurion Heavenshield | Amelia Venthyra | Sergeant Omen | Sakadi Marathi Sinvala | Jacen Nimdok
Enemies: BotM | Vella Forte
Equipment: E-11 Blaster Rifle with Grappling Hook attachment, SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster x 2, Vibroknife, Thermal Detonators x 4, KXA ABDG-01x 'Null' Grenade, Wrist-mounted Personal Energy Shield, Commlink

Vengeance is a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled.
​

Time was running out. Their only allies, not counting the Jedi who she wouldn't be caught dead asking for help from, were otherwise occupied with their own directives and as buildings around them were crumbling, escape was looking ever more difficult.

Almost back-to-back with Lyra, she continued to hold off the beasts as much as possible but before long a new issue presented itself and it was much, much worse than what they currently faced.

The approach of a woman unnaturally encased in flame struck fear into the Imperial. As a relatively new operative in the field, it was hardly a surprise that she hadn't seen anything like it and it was even less surprising that she hadn't received any training on how to effectively combat such a threat and as such, her next moves would rely almost totally on instincts and common sense.

"Oh hell..." She momentarily froze upon the realisation of their imminent attack. Their standard equipment would offer little defence against such an attack so she reluctantly resorted to using the Force.

As soon as she made the sudden movement, Zoraya dropped both weapons and held her palms out to create a Force barrier around herself and Lyra. The expression of concentration suggested it was taking a considerable amount of effort to do so. After all, she had very minimal training in the Force. She had grown to despise her connection to it and avoided using is as much as possible. Now, she didn't have the luxury of a choice.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

Objective II
Allies: The Coalition of the Willing/Last Alliance/generic 'good guys', or whatever we're calling it. Err, SJC.
Enemies: The planet-killing bad guys. Specifically Darth Maleva
Gear: Equipment: Armour, Hold-out Bolter, Boltgun, Grenades, Sidearm, Sabre, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.

"Ma'am, company command's under heavy fire. No air support incoming. Mortars will throw some shells our way."
"Frak, Diona's hit. Medic!"
"Suppressive fire! Get her out. Hazania, flame curtain now. Get the beasts off our back. Taeral, Lin, left flank, maintain pressure. Nyssa, with me. No mercy."
Elpsis' voice was not loud. The damage the Jedi Inquisition had inflicted upon her throat prevented her from raising it much. Yet it carried. Crisp, precise. Focused on the mayhem ahead and around of her.

The sky above them was red with flames, and riven with blaster fire. The stink of death was carried by the wind. All around them lay the detritus of battle - rubble, broken bodies, and blood. The ground was burnt and blackened. Thick plumes of smoke billowed into the air. Mawist warriors, be they slave or mad cultist, relentlessly fired back, zombies and cyborg dogs charged. And the Firemane team responded in kind.

The whine of blasters and the roar of bolters pierced the air. People screamed, burnt, and died. Elpsis felt fine as she threw herself into battle. A turret went up in flames and smoke when a rocket fired by Xilae smashed into it, exploding with blast and heat. Lightning shrieked from Nydris Saal. Blaster bolts splashed against Elpsis' armour as she charged through the inferno of smoke and fire.

With a leap, she was over the concrete barrier. Flame coalesced around her hand and foes were burnt. She slammed a man into rubble with a punch from a hot, robotic fist. Nyssa was close by, her aura unmistakakeable as her scarlet blade sung a song of purgation and destruction. A Mawist soldier, badly injured, yelled something. A surrender and a plea for mercy? A yell of defiance before he revealed concealed explosives and blew himself up? Elpsis never found out, and cut him down with a stroke from Inferno. A loud, whistling sound could be heard, just before mortars began pounding enemy defensive lines, throwing up earth, and ripping apart bodies.

Then she heard the warning. "Enemy reinforcements incoming." And she beheld a familiar figure. Elpsis took a breath, taking cover behind some rubble. She brought up her Mk I Boltgun, and squeezed the trigger, firing an explosive bolt towards the Sith's feet. Then another. Each shell would explode on impact - any impact. And she drew upon the flame inside her, hurling a fireball her way.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Lao-mon, Goshen Keep Dungeons
Tags: Sakadi Marathi Sinvala

For a moment, it wasn't apparent exactly where the Jedi had fled to, despite the lack of other exits. The Mongrel's enhanced vision, dimming automatically anytime his gaze crossed one of the patches of white fire he'd left on the walls, scanned the room quickly, but his basic night vision mode proved ineffective for locating his prey. The room was cluttered with instruments of pain and despair, racks of knives and nerve prods haphazardly placed right beside the kind of racks you stretched people on. There were many places the slender Sephi could have hidden.

That represented a significant problem for The Mongrel, making him reluctant to go too far past the threshold. Although he was currently the hunter and she the prey, she was incredibly dangerous prey, the kind who could easily turn the hunt around on him. The success rates of ambushes in killing their targets went way up when they involved laser swords; if he was trapped in close quarters, without knowing what direction the Jedi was coming from, he could easily get himself hacked apart by that pale blade.

Truly Jedi were the most dangerous game.

After a moment's pause, he spotted the first sign of her passage: her smoldering cloak, laid out on the torture slab. She must have discarded it on her way in. Could it really be so simple? Could she just be hiding behind the largest, most obvious obstacle in the room? The Mongrel chuckled; perhaps they skipped stealth in Jedi training, in order to make room for more courses on sanctimony and self-righteousness. What was she playing at? Surely she didn't really think she'd be able to slip by him as he tromped deeper into the chamber. Did she think it was a good ambush spot? It really wasn't.

But The Mongrel was getting arrogant, and arrogance led to mistakes. Suddenly that burning cloak flew at him, drawing bright streaks across his enhanced vision. He batted it aside with one durasteel arm, letting it land in a heap at the side of the doorway. Hardly an effective attack. He had heard from his warriors on Carlac that the NIO had with them a witch who could call fire from thin air, burning men - and even welded durasteel - to piles of ash and rivers of molten metal with a flick of her hands. As an attack, this flaming cloak was a pale imitation of that.

As a distraction, though, putting him off-balance...

The Jedi stood from behind the slab, that vibrant white blade appearing again... and then flying right at The Mongrel's face. The range was brutally short, leaving him a single second at most to react, and that had been before he'd wasted time batting aside the cloak. His dread blade flew up to parry the throw, propelled by cybernetic limbs that could move far faster and more powerfully than organic human ones. He was still too slow. Though he kept the lightsaber from bisecting his skull, the blade burned its way across his visor, melting the durasteel and blinding one burning eye.

The Mongrel howled in rage as half his vision went dark, stumbling to the side before catching himself on a shelf laden with thumbscrews. A little light from the corridor behind him shone into the chamber, no longer blocked by his heavy frame as he lurched out of the doorway. The Jedi's weapon flew back to her hand, another sorcerous trick. He was sure she would strike again, capitalizing on the advantage she'd just seized. "They say a cornered rat fights hardest," he spat, pushing himself back up to his full height and holding his dread blade before him.

Struggling to adjust to the input of his damaged visor, The Mongrel looked to the Jedi, then to the chamber door, then back again. Would she make a run for it, try to get into the corridor beyond? Or would she stay to try and finish him, now that the situation favored her more? He cursed himself for carelessness; he should've simply blown up the chamber from outside, burying her in stone and fire. It's what he would have done back when he'd been a marauder, before he'd had rank and prestige and implants, when he'd fought with only his wits and scavenged gadgets.

The Jedi were still gods compared to him. No getting complacent.

Though his visor was damaged, most of The Mongrel's mask was functional... and it was running hot. That gave him an idea to take back the initiative. As he held his dread blade out before him in a guard position, he triggered the venting systems of his durasteel faceplate, drawing out heat and moisture from the cybernetic systems implanted all through his ravaged body. The result: a stream of scalding steam rushed from his face like a dragon breathing fire, streaking across the torture slab to assail the Jedi. The cloud was a meter across, and hot enough to burn and blister skin.

Let her block that with a lightsaber!

 

[Yula Perl]

Gnost Zym
​

Why did she always get the weirdos? Could Yula just, for once, face down a bloodthirsty, saber-wielding maniac on her own? Was that so much to ask?

It was or used to be a living being. Humanoid but difficult to tell beyond that. Grafted into his skin there were an extra set of arms and legs splayed out in the vague impression of a circle. Carvings of the most intricate shapes and patterns covered the ruins of his chest. He moaned again before coughing up blood.

"Do you like it?"

Both hands clasped over her mouth in an instantaneous dramatic gesture. What artistic integrity there was in extreme body modification had been lost on Yula. Alas, she was not the sophisticated type. Similarly, the vague threat in the kel dor’s tone either went unnoticed or ignored.

“Th—oh, BARF!”

She gasped and made good on her words by heaving bile onto the budding artist’s shoes. Criticism could be cruel.

Staggering away, Yula pointed aggressively at the Sith. “You’re a monster!” She declared wildly, trying her best not to catch another glimpse of the Vitruvian Man. That one was going to haunt her nightmares for a solid month to be sure.

Now that there were innocent, malformed beings in the room, maneuvering a fight would be a bit trickier. Bile dripping down her chin, she rifled frantically through her jacket before tossing a stun grenade in the kel dor’s direction. The assault was quickly followed up by a quickdraw shot from her blaster pistol, aimed at the breath mask the man wore.